


Prompt Fics

by pir8grl



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-05-09 19:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 5,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5553293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pir8grl/pseuds/pir8grl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Untitled DW ficlets, written for various prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rose/TenToo. Written for the Time Petals Ficlet Friday prompt “Christmas Hurt/Comfort.”

“Rose?” the Doctor called, concern tingeing his voice. He finally spied her through the dusk of the empty garden and hurried to her side. “It’s freezing out here! Come back inside.” 

“In a minute,” Rose mumbled, keeping her face turned away. 

“What is it, love? What’s wrong?” 

“It’s nothing…I just needed a moment, all right?” 

The man who’d left them behind on that beach might have shrugged out of his jacket and offered it to her, but this human body was just as susceptible to cold as Rose‘s, so the Doctor settled for stepping behind her and wrapping both arms tight around her, trying to share his warmth. “Please tell me?” 

“It’s stupid,” Rose protested, cuddling back into his arms. 

“Not if it makes you cry.” 

“It’s just…it’s our first Christmas together. I’ve been given **_so_** much, I should be perfectly happy, but…” 

“But you’re thinking of him, aren’t you?” the Doctor murmured in resignation. 

“I am. I worry about him. He’s all alone, and he’s rubbish when he’s alone. You know that, better than anyone.” 

The Doctor turned Rose gently in his arms, and smoothed her windblown hair back from her face. He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “No one could ever replace you in his hearts, but he - we’ve - always had a knack for finding someone to get into or out of mischief with us.” 

Rose graced him with a small, watery smile. “You mean like in the basement of a shop you’re about to blow up? 

“Or on a planet where they think I’m their god - or their devil, depending on who you happen to be talking to.” 

“So you really think he’s alright?” 

“Is, or will be.” 

Rose smoothed her hands down his lapels. “Would you tell me about some of the others who traveled with you?” she asked shyly. 

“Of course. But only if we can go back inside where it’s warm!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nine/Rose. Written for the Time Petals Ficlet prompt “Stuck With You for the Holidays.”

The Doctor brooded morosely as he paced the filthy little cell that currently contained Rose and himself. He’d promised her a trip to a winter festival, renowned throughout the galaxies. He’d imagined the delight in her eyes at the sight of more snow than she’d ever seen in South London, and fairy lights that were, in fact, living frost fairies. 

And then he’d gone and landed them in the wrong century, when the planet’s sun had begun to expand, melting all the snow and ice, destroying the economy, and eroding the civilization back to primitive superstition. Particularly superstition of strangers. 

He turned back to the meager camp bed in the corner where Rose lay, wrapped in his battered leather jacket. He didn’t like the torpor she’d fallen into. While he knew it was common for older humans to experience joint pain, and general grogginess, in such pervasively dank conditions, Rose was far too young for that. He wanted her safe aboard the TARDIS, where it was warm and dry, and he had use of a full medical bay. 

Unfortunately, getting her home seemed dependent on the actions of someone who was probably right now locked up for public indecency. 

As if reading his thoughts, Rose stirred slightly, blinking her eyes open. “Doctor?” 

“I’m here, Rose.” He knelt beside the camp bed, brushing a lock of hair back from her face, and pressing his lips to her forehead. He told himself that was just to check her temperature, and frowned, realizing that she felt a bit cool and clammy. 

“Where’s Jack?” Rose slurred. 

“Well,” the Doctor replied brightly, “either he’s out lookin’ for us, or locked up in the next cell. Your guess is as good as mine.” 

“Oh, ye of little faith,” an American voice drawled from the doorway. “Watch your eyes,” he added gleefully. 

The Doctor leaned forward, shielding Rose, as the lock and hinges were evaporated into neat, square holes and the remains of the door crashed inward to the floor. He sat up and rather pointedly waved his hand, wafting the dust away from Rose. 

“Is she all right?” Jack asked, quickly striding through the debris. 

“Not sure,” the Doctor replied tersely. 

Jack held out a flask. “Brandy,” he replied, to the Doctor’s inquiring expression. 

“No. She’s a bit dehydrated. Let’s just get her back to the TARDIS.” The Doctor gathered Rose into his arms and stood. “Look at that, Rose…not stuck in here with me, after all.” 

She smiled weakly. “Stuck with you…that’s not so bad.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Vincent/Rose Tyler
> 
> Written for the Time Petals New Year’s prompt “Write something that’s new to you.”

Rose Tyler carefully examined the pair of leather trousers laid out on the table. She‘d heard that this show was murder on costumes. She’d heard a few other things, besides, but the pay was good, and this would looks great on her CV. Then again…

“If you want to keep that hand, mate, you’d best move it.” 

“What kind of talk is that, love? It is **_my_** show, after all, and those are **_my_** trousers that you seem to be so interested in. If you’re really all that interested in what goes in my pants…” 

Rose turned and straightened, dislodging his hand from her bum. It was a coincidence that she happened to have a large pair of sewing shears in her hand. She had to admit, Peter Vincent was rather fit, especially without that horrid wig and troweled-on makeup. 

“It may be your show, but this is my wardrobe, and I‘ll thank you to leave your flirtin‘ outside. Also any food or beverage,” she informed him, looking pointedly as the glass of acid green liquor he was slopping about. 

“But I get thirsty.” 

“Get yourself a water bottle with a cap. They sell ‘em in the lobby shop.” 

“I said thirsty, not dirty.” 

Rose sighed. “Look, mate. I’m Rose Tyler, and I’m your new wardrobe supervisor. I can be your best friend, or your worst nightmare. Your choice.” 

“Is that a challenge, Rose Tyler?” Peter replied, with an absolutely filthy smirk.


	4. Hocus Pocus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Vincent/Rose Tyler  
> So, I wrote a Peter Vincent/Rose Tyler ficlet for a Time Petals prompt, then er...promptly wanted to write another. It's a tad cracky, but hey - Fright Night.

Rose clapped a hand over her mouth as she neared the wardrobe. It smelled like maybe the sewer line had backed up. Beyond that she didn’t care to speculate. Her eyes were actually watering as she stepped through the doorway. 

“Oh, my God! What the **_hell_** are you doing?” she shrieked. 

Peter Vincent whirled around, lowering the spray bottle he‘d been enthusiastically wielding. He was looking a little green himself, what little of his face was showing around the bandana tied over his mouth and nose. 

“It’s a spellofprotection,” he mumbled. 

**_“What?!”_**

“It’s a spell of protection. I found it on the internet. Guaranteed to ward off any of Jerry’s pals that might come calling.” 

“Who the hell is Jerry? No - I don’t care. What ** _is_** that stuff?” 

“Well, it’s a patented mixture of herbs and essential oils. I think there’s Holy Water involved…or possibly some pig blood.” 

“And you found this on the internet. Are you out of your mind? How much have you had to drink? I’m gonna have to fumigate this place!” 

Rose backed out into the corridor, where the air was marginally clearer. “Do you not realize that all this hocus pocus of yours is a stage show? There’s no such thing as demons or monsters, and my wardrobe does not need to be protected from some guy named Jerry.” 

Peter followed her out into the hall - mainly so he could breathe. “I beg to differ, sweetheart. I mean, I haven’t actually met any demons. But I did go a few rounds with a monster named Jerry. Oh, and for the record, I’m not drunk. Yet. I’ll be up in my penthouse rectifying that, if you’d care to join me.” With that, he headed off for his private lift. 

Rose stood in the hallway, trying to catch her breath, and reign in her temper. She let out a muffled shriek when someone touched her shoulder. 

“Everything all right, miss?” a uniformed security guard asked. 

“Fine,” she said. 

As he smiled and moved off, she noticed that his name badge read ‘Jerry.’ Surely not…? Suddenly, getting drunk in the penthouse sounded like a pretty damn good idea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Vincent/Rose Tyler
> 
> Requested by bluezinthos. Thank you (as always!) to the lovely tenroseforeverandever, and Dev.

“Where are your trousers?” were the first words out of Rose’s mouth, as she stepped out of the lift. 

Peter Vincent lounged against the wall, wearing a leer, an unfastened black silk dressing gown, and a very tiny pair of black silk… _mmm, definitely silk…_ bikini pants. He pushed off the wall and whirled, causing the robe to gape even more. 

“You **_are_** the mistress of my wardrobe. Thought you might want to take this opportunity to take my measurements. Make sure everything fits to perfection.” 

Rose clamped her mouth shut and glanced around the room, looking for a safe place to rest her eyes. _He really was quite fit…_ “My assistants usually handle basic things like measurements. In the shop. Where people wear clothes.” 

Peter stepped very close - quite obviously angling his head for a glimpse of what appeared to be a rather nice pink lace brassiere down the wide oval neckline of her shirt. “I don‘t deal with assistants. And I demand absolute perfection in my tailoring. Everything fitted to me exactly. Right down to the last millimeter.” 

Rose took a step back and sucked in a deep breath. _When had it gotten so warm in here?_ She looked around at the glass museum cases. “What **_is_** all this stuff?” 

“Talismans, spell books, and weaponry for fighting vampires.” The ogling, and the banter, both seemed to melt away. 

“Vampires. Riiiiight. Where’d you get all this?” 

Peter cleared his throat. “Internet, mostly.” 

“You just…bought all of this on the internet? What are you, ten?” 

He took a step closer, decidedly into her personal space, leer back in full force. “Well, that is **_one_** of my measurements. But if you’re not here in a professional capacity, what is it that you’re looking to do?” 

“I - you - that is -”

“You, me - I like the way this conversation is going so far.” 

Rose sucked in a deep breath. “Look, you were saying something about protecting the place from some guy named Jerry, and then this security guard snuck up behind me, and his nametag said -”

Peter snorted with laughter, then took a swig of whatever bright green concoction he was swilling. “Jerry. That was Jerry-the-security-guard, not to be confused with Jerry-the-vampire. Jerry-the-security-guard is nearly retirement age, I doubt he’s got two teeth left in his head, much less fangs, nor any other body part with any interest in a luscious, little blonde -”

“Oi!”

“- and Jerry-the-vampire is dead, and burning in where ever the hell it is that dead vampires go to burn -”

“You mean, hell, like Dante?” 

“Hell is good. Here’s to Jerry burning in hell.” And he took another swig of his drink. “And getting poked with pitchforks, right in the -”

“And you…you actually **_believe_** all this?” Rose asked, interrupting his tirade. 

Peter nodded slowly, all the playfulness draining from his features, leaving behind a rather handsome countenance, with haunted eyes. “I’ve lived all this.”

“I think I’m gonna need that drink now.” 

Wordlessly, Peter offered Rose his glass. She took a cautious sip and spluttered, nearly spitting it back out. 

“What ** _is_** that? It’s disgusting.” 

Peter snatched his glass back protectively. “Midori. My personal stock.” 

“What else you got?” 

“Wouldn’t **_you_** like to know?” he purred.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Time Petals prompt “without.”

“This isn’t gonna work,” Rose heard someone say, or thought she did. The wind caught the words and scattered them to the night sky. She realized, rather abruptly, that she was in her knees in the snow, still clutching the Doctor’s hand on one side, and Jack’s on the other. 

“She’s too cold to go on.” 

Dimly, she felt someone lift her to her feet, and then the Doctor was standing in front of her, holding his leather jacket open, like a flasher. She thought she might have giggled at that image. 

“Come ‘ere,” he said gently. 

Jack prodded her back lightly, and she stumbled forward to lock her arms around the Doctor’s waist. He immediately wrapped the jacket around her, enclosing her in his warmth. 

“Captain,” he said, nodding his head meaningfully at Rose. “We’ve got to get her warm.” 

“Have I just died and gone to heaven?” Jack quipped, with a salacious grin. He stepped forward and slid his arms around the Doctor, so that Rose was cocooned between them. 

“Might do, if you don’t shut up,” the Doctor muttered. 

“’M sorry,” Rose murmured, her voice muffled by his wooly jumper. 

“Hey, nothing to be sorry for, doll,” Jack said soothingly. “Without you, we’d still be stuck in that jail cell. Isn’t that right, Doctor?” 

“Jack’s right, Rose.” 

“’M slowin’ you down,” she protested. 

“Hush now,” the Doctor told her. “You’ve been out in the cold much longer than we have, and you’ve got the least body mass of the three of us. If I’ve got to carry anyone, I’d much rather it be you.” 

“I think that’s a compliment,” she replied fuzzily. 

“Several, actually,” Jack laughed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next little bit of the last thing I wrote, requested by hellostarlight20.

Lulled by the Doctor’s twin heartbeat against her cheek, Rose drifted along in a haze of cold and wind. 

The next time she became properly aware, she was wrapped in a lovely plush blanket, in front of a crackling fire. Someone was gently manipulating her hands, and - kissing her fingertips? Oh, she must still be dreaming. 

“How are her feet, Jack?” the Doctor’s voice rumbled under her ear. 

“Toes are nice and pink.” 

Strong fingers tickled her feet and Rose squirmed away from them. 

“And very responsive,” Jack laughed, relief battling for space with the usual playfulness of his tone. 

She thought she felt him drop a kiss to the top of one of her feet, then he began to rub them with a wonderfully warm and fluffy towel. Rose gave a tiny sigh of contentment, and snuggled closer into the blanket. 

“That’s right, love…you just rest now.” 

Rose’s last fuzzy thought was that this was the best dream she’d ever had…


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Time Petals prompt “Spring is in the Air.” Goes with the last two scenes I wrote. Basically, this is the fic equivalent of a Peep.

She was springtime - flowers and gentle breezes and sunshine. And she snuffled in her sleep, derailing his free flowing babble of rubbish poetry. Smiling indulgently, the Doctor gently brushed away a lock of golden hair that had fallen across Rose’s face. Her cheek felt warm beneath his fingertips, and she was sleeping comfortably, snuggled into her fleecy pink blanket. Jack had slipped a pair of absurdly striped fuzzy socks onto her feet, and that wasn’t poetic, either, but it suited her. 

He supposed he really ought to take her back to her room, but he was a selfish git, and he liked having her here, all to himself, even if she was asleep. His precious girl, she’d certainly earned her rest this time around, rescuing him and Jack from that jail…which they wouldn’t have been in, if wasn’t for Jack and his need to flirt with anything that had a pulse. 

The Doctor was the last survivor of an ancient and mighty race, and all he’d wanted was to follow them into oblivion…until he met her. A simple girl from Earth, who laughed and lived and loved fiercely. She’d wormed her way into his life, and warmed his tired old hearts. And she was shifting around, clutching both hands around one of his arms, and resting her cheek against the soft woolen sleeve of his jumper. 

“I am not a cuddle toy, Rose Tyler,” he informed her. 

Her only reply was a sleepy murmur that sounded as if it might be his name. 

The TARDIS emitted a low blurbling that sounded suspiciously like laughter, and a large, plush bunny appeared on the end of the couch. 

“You have got to be kidding,” he muttered. 

The TARDIS chimed softly, knowing he wouldn’t chuck it in the fire, because Rose would adore the silly thing. And he would do anything to make her happy…because she was the one who brought springtime to his soul. And that wasn’t poetry - just plain truth.


	9. Long Since Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Time Petals prompt “innocence.”

The Doctor stared stoically ahead as Rose dabbed antiseptic on a cut above his eyebrow. 

“Almost done,” she informed him, with forced cheerfulness. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes. “You should never have had to see something like that. I should have -”

“Doctor, it’s OK,” Rose said, reaching out for his hand and rubbing her thumb soothingly over his knuckles. 

“It’s not OK! How can you say that? They were children!” 

“I didn’t mean it that way,” she replied quietly. “It’s just…you can’t protect me from everything. You know where I grew up. If you wanted to stop me seein’ things like that, you would have had to start when I was ten years old.”


	10. Nature vs. Nurture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next little bit of the last thing I wrote, because even though I actually produced something drabble length, I’m not really done yet.

It was wrong for children to grow up where casual violence was an everyday occurrence. Just plain wrong. The elderly should be secure in their homes, children should be able to play on the street without fear, and people should sleep peacefully in their homes at night. That was how is should be for all people, all over the universe. 

It wasn’t. He knew that. Nine hundred years of life had made him a realist, if nothing else, and the war had burned away any idealism he might still have retained. 

But Rose…her timelines were almost incandescent with possibility. What could she be, if she’d grown up without knowing fear, or privation? If she’d had access to the finest educational institutions? If she’d grown up with two loving parents? He could do it. The laws of time were his to command, and there was no one left to stop him. Not anymore. 

She could have everything, go anywhere, do anything. But…would she still be Rose? His Rose, with her strength, and compassion, and kindness? And how would a well-off, educated young woman come to be in a department store basement? 

She might not be his Rose. He might not ever meet her. But she’d be better off. 

Or not. Plenty of folk all across time and space squandered their gifts and potential. A lifetime being sheltered from all that was wrong in the world made some people indifferent. 

But not Rose. Not his precious girl, with her kind heart. But how much of that came from a lifetime spent picking herself up off the ground, and then lending a hand to help someone else up? How much of her sense of wonder came from doing without? How much of who she was came from Jackie Tyler, who’d spent the last nineteen years showering her daughter with enough love for two parents? 

“Penny for ‘em,” Rose said softly, holding out a steaming mug of tea. 

“Hmm?” he replied absently, taking the proffered mug. 

“You were a million miles away. Does your head still hurt?” 

“It’s fine. Nearly healed.” The Doctor stared into the depths of his tea for a long moment, but, unsurprisingly, no answers floated to the top of the mug. “Rose, what you said before, about seein’ bad things since you were a little girl. Have you ever wished things could have been different? I mean…time machine…it must have crossed your mind.” 

“I dunno,” she replied slowly. “I mean, sure I would have liked things to be a bit easier for me an’ Mum, but…if I didn’t live on that estate, maybe I wouldn’t have been at Henrik’s that night. Maybe I’d never have met you. And Doctor? I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. You know that, right?” 

A smile lit up his face - truly, lit it up - there was no other way to describe it, and he pulled her into a strong embrace. “Me neither.”


	11. A Tiny! Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt idea inspired by the Tiny Ten in BP's pocket at the con: Ten is shrunk down to a height of two inches due to a series of wacky misunderstandings/equipment failures/ what-have-you, and Rose has to carry him around in her pocket to keep him safe. Hijinx ensue.
> 
> Um…I suppose it goes without saying, this is a touch crack-y?

“Will you quit squirming?” Rose hissed. 

“But Rooooose,” a tiny voice whinged from the bib pocket of her overall dress, “it’s so warm in here.” 

Rose glared down at him. “Would you maybe rather walk?” 

“I would maybe rather be my proper size again, thanks all the same.” Increasingly irritated at his predicament, the Doctor wriggled around some more, trying to find spot that was comfortable and somewhat dignified. It was actually quite soft and warm inside Rose’s pocket. Very soft, and very warm. And… ** _oh._** He abruptly realized exactly where on Rose’s person the bib pocket of her overall was located. There was just the lining of the pocket, and Rose’s pink tee shirt separating him from…things he was absolutely **_not_** going to think about right now. Nope. 

“Keep still, or I’m gonna let that little alien girl put you back in her dollhouse,” Rose warned him. She felt heat rising to her face. Surely he didn’t realize just where his tiny little hands were located right now? 

The Doctor suspected it was an empty threat, considering the way her cheeks were flushed. Smirking, he managed to insinuate himself into a ** _very_** cozy spot. “Or she could shrink you down as well. That’s quite a nice dollhouse. More of a doll palace, actually. All the amenities. You’d love it.” 

“No, ta. Don’t care to have an audience.” 

“An audience for what, Rose Tyler?” he asked in an innocent tone. 

Before he could accomplish any more mischief, the Doctor suddenly felt himself being lifted out of Rose’s pocket, and set on the palm of her hand. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Doctor. We’re gonna get the old lady to fix you, then we’re gonna go back to the TARDIS. ‘Cuz the only one who gets to play with you, is me. Got that?”


	12. Bananas Are Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose x TenToo  
> Written as an excuse for a very silly head cannon of mine…er...I mean…for the Time Petals prompt “Gardening on the TARDIS.” Sort of.

“Doctor, seriously - enough is enough!” 

“Rose? What’ve I done now?” he asked, peaking around the corner. 

She held up the postal box that she’d tripped over on the mat. The one adorned with a tacky ‘As Seen on TV’ decal. “We talked about this.” 

“But Rose, you don’t even know what’s in it!” 

Rose sighed in fond exasperation. “I don’t have to. ‘As Seen on TV’ equals ‘junk.’ It’s all just rubbish - it’s too small, or too flimsy, or it doesn’t work, or it works once then breaks.”

“But Rose - it’s a state of the art -”

“Banana keeper?” 

“Er…well, yes.” 

“Like the other sixteen that’re jammed in the cupboard? The cupboard I don’t dare open because of all the banana keepers that’ll come crashing down on my head?” 

“But Rose, love, I’ve explained all this before - bananas are nearly the perfect food. Vitamins, potassium, easy to digest - we’ll need to take lots of them with us when we begin to travel again. I don‘t know all the ins and outs of this universe. Who knows how difficult it might be to find fresh supplies?” 

Smiling, Rose dropped the box on the nearest table and walked over to the Doctor. She reached up and draped her arms around his neck. “Doctor, when we start to travel, you can have all the bananas you want, without cluttering up the galley with all this mess.” 

He cocked his head to one side. “Are you trying to tell me something?” 

“Yup,” she replied, popping the ‘p.’ “Our baby’s grown a new room. A hydroponics lab.” 

“So - you mean - “

“You can grow all the bananas you want.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose x Nine, with a side order of Jack
> 
> Written for the Time Petals prompts “sundress,” “summer dates or romantic gestures,” and “dangerous summer situations, weather, or overheating.” All sort of mushed together. Whaddaya mean, I need a reason? 
> 
> *~*~*~*~*

The Doctor sat staring moodily out the shuttle’s window. The view wasn’t nearly as interesting as it had been hours earlier, when it was light out. The day hadn’t gone quite the way he’d planned. He’d brought them to a leisure palace that recreated an old Earth theme park, of the sort that used to be famous in the American state of Florida. He’d wanted to show his two human companions something brilliant and amusing, but he’d a feeling that things had somehow gotten out of hand. Something about Captain Jack Harkness seemed to bring out a streak of rather petty competitiveness. 

It was idiotic. He was a Time Lord - the last of the Time Lords, with the last TARDIS in existence. He had nothing to prove, certainly not to two primitives from Sol 3. But…he’d wanted to impress Rose. Wanted to see her smile at him, even if he wasn’t as handsome and charming as the fellow whose arm she was leaning against right now. 

He’d been so wrapped up in showing off that he hadn’t stopped to think about the fragile human physiology wrapped up in the pretty ruffled pink and yellow sundress. Hadn’t considered that the sun might be a bit strong or the heat too oppressive for someone who’d grown up in England of the twentieth century. No, he and the Captain had spent the day trying to outdo one another - who could tolerate the most outrageous rides, who could win the most prizes at the carnival games. 

The very first prize he’d won for Rose - some sort of lavender-striped furry creature - was clasped tightly in her hand. The rest - a ridiculous number of them - had been handed off to children who couldn’t manage to beat the games on their own. That was his Rose…bringing smiles to everyone around her. 

But him…he’d let a day that should have been about her pleasure turn into a pissing contest with Jack. Always one more game, one more adventure. He should have known better. He should have known enough - cared enough - to see that she needed to sit in the shade or have something cold to eat or drink. 

Jack blinked his eyes open. He smiled fondly at the blonde who was asleep on his shoulder, and mouthed _‘washroom,’_ over her head. He half expected another comment about human stamina - and he’d certainly heard a choice litany of them today - but the Doctor chose to keep silent this time, watching as Jack stood and ever-so-gently settled Rose back into the center seat. 

Rose frowned in her sleep, shifting in the seat. 

“Hush, now,” the Doctor murmured. “Go back to sleep.” 

She leaned towards the sound of his voice. 

The Doctor looked irritably at the arm rest dividing them, the glanced around. There were no stewards in sight, so he quickly soniced the arm rest, and shoved it up out of the way. He pulled Rose, still clutching that absurd plush toy, onto his lap. 

“Better?” 

She sighed, a drowsy smile on her flushed face. 

“Doctor,” she mumbled, “can we go again?” 

“Whatever you want, Rose. And I promise, I’ll look after you better next time. We’ll sit by the fountain, and I’ll get you one of those frozen fizzie drinks -”

She blinked her warm golden eyes at him. “I wanna go on the twisty coaster again. And maybe have a go at one of those games you an’ Jack was hogging. Bet I could beat you.” 

“I bet you could, at that,” he chuckled. “Rest now. We’ll get you properly cooled off once we get home.” 

“I had the best day,” Rose whispered, right before she drifted back to dreamland.


	14. Drag or Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose x Nine, with a side order of Jack  
> Crack fic  
> Written for the Time Petals prompts “sundress,” and you can blame tenroseforeverandever for this one. (Also the title!)

Rose grinned as she helped Jack adjust the bright pink picture hat over the curly wig he’d pilfered. “There. You look darling.” 

“Don’t I always?” he preened. “Come on out, Doc. We’re waiting!” he called back to the changing room of the store they’d broken…ahem…let themselves into. 

“I am not coming out.” 

“Come on, Doctor,” Rose coaxed. “I’m sure you could use a little help with your outfit.” 

“No.” 

“Doctor, none of us wants to wear all this -”

“Speak for yourself,” Jack interjected, trying the effect of a zebra striped clutch against his dress. 

“Shut it!” Rose hissed, elbowing him. “Look, Doctor, the APB is for two tall blokes and an -”

“Urchin in trousers,” Jack supplied helpfully. 

Rose glared at him. “So this is the only way out of here. Just three proper ladies out for a stroll. All right?” 

“No.” 

Rose stepped right up to the door of the Doctor’s changing booth. “Look, Doctor, it’s just until we get back to the TARDIS, all right? Just come on out and let me see.” 

“No,” he repeated. “I look …no. Not comin’ out.”

Rose stepped even closer, and dropped her voice to a low, wheedling tone. “Doctor, it can‘t be all that bad. Please? Just let me see. It’s the only way.” 

“I’ve got knobby knees,” he whinged. “This is the only thing that’ll fit on me and it’s too short and I’ve got knobby knees.”

Rose carefully swallowed down a smile. “I‘m sure it‘ll be fine.” 

Hesitantly, he opened the door. Rose pressed her lips together and tried with all her might to school her features. The flowered, blue chiffon sundress clung in all the wrong places, and saying that his knees were knobby was…well…

“Well…um…you’ll need a wig, and we’re all wearing big hats,” Rose began lamely. 

“Ooh, and a stole,” Jack suggested, grabbing a marabou trimmed monstrosity from a nearby rack. 

The Doctor’s eyes widened in horror.


	15. Fragile Serenity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose x Nine, post Dalek  
> Written for the Time Petals prompt “serenity.”

Of all the things that might have survived the Time War, it had to be **_that_** \- a tin can full of death and destruction. 

Of all the things he’d lost to the Time War, **_this_** loss, this young human girl, his Rose - this is the loss that would have ended him. 

A tender smile curved the Doctor’s lips as he watched her sleep. One hand was clutched in his own. He couldn’t bear to let go, not after coming so close to losing her today. 

Suddenly, Rose’s fingers convulsed around his own. She gave a sharp inhalation, and her head tossed on the pillow. He leaned forward, cradling her face with his free hand. 

“Hush, love. You’re safe. It’s just a dream.” 

Rose’s face relaxed at his voice and gentle touch, and he thought she’d drift back to sleep, but then her eyes fluttered open. 

“Rest, love. You haven’t slept enough.” 

Rose shoved herself up on one elbow. A lock of wavy golden hair flopped across her face, and the Doctor smiled fondly as he reached out to tuck it behind her ear. 

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I asked you to stay with me.” 

He merely raised an eyebrow at that. 

“You need rest. I can see you’re still fightin’ it, but you’re hurt.” 

“It’s not so bad now,” the Doctor hedged. 

“You’re afraid of the dreams, aren’t you?” 

“They were bad, after the War, Rose. Really bad. I could hurt you.” 

“You could never hurt me.” 

“Rose -”

“I’ll keep the dreams away.” 

Well, if anyone could, it was her. The Doctor sighed his defeat and moved to sit next to her on the bed. 

“Oi! Boots!” Rose scolded. 

Chuckling softly, he leaned down to unlace his boots with fingers made clumsy by weariness. Exhaustion was swiftly overtaking the Time Lord as he kicked the offending items under the bed, then swung his legs up and reclined back against the pillows. Rose insinuated herself into his arms as his eyes drifted shut and the Doctor surrendered to the fragile serenity of sleep.


End file.
